Shut up, just shut up!
by elmostroverde
Summary: Sherlock's brain doesn't shut up and it is slowly driving him mad. A story about how Sherlock gets into the world of drugs and other adventures of the teenage genius. Not all dark. Rated T for drug use
1. How it all started

**Hey guys! It's been a while since I last published a story and this is my first Sherlock fic.**

**I hope you enjoy it!**

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He'd started when he was sixteen, when his brain would not shut up. He would sit through boring lessons and feel his brain going into overdrive because of the excess information making its way to it. The two boys in the corner had the same girlfriend, the teacher was having an affair with the cleaning lady, the boy next to him had been thrown out of his home and this was his last day in school, the boy in the front row was sad and nearly suicidal because his dad left with another woman, from Paris, no no from Bruges. He honestly could not care less but that would not stop the information shooting its way into his brain and that combined with the absolutely boring biology lesson made him want to run away 'shut up, just shut up'. The bell rang, it was the last period and they were dismissed, he grabbed his things and calmly stepped out of the room. As he walked through the corridors he saw Mr. Redwood coming in the opposite direction, one glance at him and he knew what he was going to do to shut his brain up 'tired, cheap suit probably a present from his brother, more likely his father. He's stressed out because he thinks his wife is having an affair (which she's not) recently started smoking again, cigarettes in the left jacket pocket' Sherlock pretended to look something in his bag while Mr. Redwood continued to approach, at the right time Sherlock started to walk again, three steps later and Sherlock crashed into the professor's chest, he quickly grabbed the cigarettes and the lighter before looking up and mumbling an apology, the professor didn't notice.

Sherlock stepped into the deserted house, Mother had gone to get the groceries and Mycroft was in London taking over the world. He went up to his room and after dodging several of his 'experiments' he came to stand by the open window and lit up a cigarette. After the first drag he nearly coughed up a lung "Interesting" he whispered and took another drag, he coughed again but continued to smoke, he finished the cigarette and lit up another one, this time he did not cough, he sat on his chair and felt as if his heart rate was going down, calming him, he smiled his brain quiet at last, he still noticed things but it was like his brain discarded most of it. It had only taken his body three months to get used to nicotine and now, as December loomed close Sherlock Holmes decided that he needed something better, more powerful. He went to London for the afternoon and picked up everything he needed, he went back home and into his room. He opened the bag and took the plant out, careful not to let anything get on his bed sheets. The dried plant was full of seeds and twigs, he discarded those and put what was left inside an emptied cigarette, he dragged his chair near the window and lit up the joint, he took a drag and held his breath until a coughing fit forced him to let the smoke out. The smell was interesting, quite odd; he turned on the ventilator and took another drag. When the joint was finished Sherlock sat back waiting for the drug to take full effect and it didn't take long.

He started feeling so relaxed and calm, he felt his heart thump softly in his chest and every time he breathed he felt it go up his throat and down again. Moving sent shivers up his spine "the chair is tickling me" he chuckled. The radio in the kitchen was playing Pink Floyd's Dark side of the Moon as a day-long tribute to the band, the music was coming to the end of 'Brain Damage' and the beginning of 'Eclipse', Sherlock closed his eyes and felt his mind explode when organ broke through the guitar, he smiled and lit up a cigarette, it felt so different, not raspy but soft and a little bit like he was eating ash. It was amazing, he didn't have to filter his thoughts, and everything inside his head had turned into a sea of tranquillity. He slowly moved himself to bed and let himself fall onto his pillows. A few minutes later a maid woke him up to tell him that dinner was ready and that he should go down for his brother had just arrived. The effect of the drugs had not gone away yet so he stood up drowsily and sprayed some lotion on himself before making his way downstairs.

Mycroft was sitting in the living room while his mother talked about something Sherlock had managed to do.

"Ah, my dear brother, how are you today" he said when Sherlock reached the bottom of the stairs

"Very well, thank you. How's the diet" he said smiling

"I-"

"Don't worry, I'm only joking" Sherlock laughed which took Mycroft by surprise. His brother was laughing, truly laughing "What's for dinner Mummy? I'm starving" Violet led the way to the dining room and they sat around the table.

"So, how's school brother?" Mycroft said smiling pleasantly

"Boring, as usual"

"Any extracurricular activities of, shall we say, recreation?" Sherlock suddenly looked sharp but only his brother noticed.

"I've been telling Sherlock that he should find a girl, he doesn't seem that interested though"

"It's not that I'm not interested mummy, but the girls at school are so dull and needy" he said, his voice softening

"Don't call them that, you just haven't looked" Sherlock chuckled, the chair was tickling him again "Anyway, how's work Mycroft?"

"Everything is going marvellously well, thank you for asking mummy"

They continued to eat quietly and after tea the brothers were left alone so that they could "catch up" as their mother had put it.

"You started smoking" Mycroft said "You'll stop growing"

"Well maybe you should consider starting, seeing as you keep growing horizontally" Sherlock laughed again, his eyes sparkled with something Mycroft had never seen before, he was so stunned that the witty remark he was about to make came too late, Sherlock raised an eyebrow "Is something wrong Mycroft?" He said, not really worried "Have you now realised that it's true?"

"I hope you're not smoking near mummy"

"Do you think I'm thick? Of course I don't!" Sherlock looked as if he was going to jump to his feet but something stopped him, his heart was going up his throat again. He started laughing, taking his pulse he realized that his heart was going very slowly and he smiled.

"What else are you taking Sherlock?" Mycroft had his suspicions but he could not say what kind of drug his brother was currently taking "Sherlock?" His brother didn't seem to hear him and instead he looked at him and smiled, really smiled.

"You know Mycroft, you are pretty amazing" he chuckled and stood up "I'm afraid I must go back to my room" he smiled "I'm experimenting with fizzy tablets and boiling water" And with that he left.

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**So, that's it for today, I will be updating this story regularly because I'm a master procrastinator.**

**Leave some reviews and tell me what you think!**


	2. Reduction

**Right so here's the second chapter. Remember Sherlock is 16 and Mycroft 23.**

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Sherlock only smoked pot when his brain got too loud, which was quite often. However the numbness and calmness that came with the effect usually lasted for a couple of days and that was all he needed.

Mycroft knew that his brother was taking some kind of drug but he did not have the heart to tell him to stop, he looked happy and was so charming when he was under the effect of said drug, for a while his baby brother was back, lovable always smiling and laughing just like when they were little kids. Mycroft did not want it to stop but he was sure that he could stop it from escalating.

Soon the holidays were over and Sherlock was back to school, he still hated it but it was so much more bearable. He could still deduce things about people just by glancing at them but the information was quickly discarded as unnecessary and therefore promptly forgotten.

"Oi, freak!" Sherlock turned around "where do you think you're going?" three kids were making his way towards him

"Home" '_The state of his hair and clothes indicate that his mother is dead or he has a bad housemaid, his father started drinking, ok, mother's dead. His older brother is… crap! What was it? Something about his mother, right! Dead_.' Sherlock tried to smile pleasantly.

"No you ain't, you still have not paid for ratting us out"

"Oh for god's sake" Sherlock dropped his bag on the floor, he had already tried to reason with Tim and his gang once but it was impossible since, through Sherlock's eyes, these kids were _not _rational beings "Three against one? Your mummy would be so disappointed Timmy"

"What did you say?"

"Trying to beat me up won't stop your father's drinking and it will certainly not make your brother like you" Sherlock smiled

"Shut up!" You could see Tim was getting angry but he did not move

"C'mon Tim, want us to take him?" said the smallest of the group

"Oh yes please! Put me up against little Johnny"

"That's it you fuck!" And with that the three boys launched themselves against Sherlock.

Of course Sherlock had expected a violent response, especially after he had spurred them on, they were angry and therefore it was fair to expect imprecise easy to stop attacks, but his movements seemed to have slowed and soon he was pinned to the floor with Tim looking down at him.

"Take it back freak" Sherlock was disorientated he must have hit his head at some point. He closed his eyes. '_Injury assessment: Bruised ribs, mild concussion, bruised face'. _"Take it back!" he kicked Sherlock right in the face '_Dislocated jaw, fractured cheekbone.'_

"Piss off" the impact was lessened given the fact that he could barely speak through his bloody mouth.

Sherlock was about to say something else when suddenly Tim and his gang ran off and he was left lying on the mud unable to move properly and wondering what had made the run off '_When did it start raining?'_ . He heard a car pulling over and he raised his head slightly trying to turn over, he managed to see a pair of shoes and the tip of an umbrella "Mycroft" he whispered and let his head fall and closed his eyes. Mycroft crouched next to his brother.

"Sherlock? I need you to wake up" he patted his brother's face gently "C'mon 'Lock" Sherlock opened his eyes at the sound of his childhood nickname "Can you stand?" Sherlock gave a nearly imperceptible nod and subsequently failed miserably to stand. Mycroft snapped his fingers and the driver stepped out of the car, with his help they managed to get Sherlock into the car "Nearest A&E please" Sherlock grunted, his mouth was hanging loose and although Mycroft could see the pain Sherlock was in, he could not help but smirk "You do realise that you have a dislocated jaw right?" Mycroft chuckled and turned to find a pair of silvery eyes glaring at him "I'll need to set that, at least" he said pointing at his jaw Sherlock nodded "Stop around here. I'm sorry Sherlock, put your head back"

Sherlock half smiled, he knew it was going to be painful. Mycroft grabbed a lot of tissue paper and put his thumbs inside his brother's mouth, he looked up to warn Sherlock of what was coming and pushed down and back, hard. Sherlock screamed, the pain was nearly unbearable and you had to believe him when he said that he had done everything in his power to stop himself from shouting out. There was a light 'pop' on the left side of his face but he could still feel half of his jaw hanging loose. Mycroft shot another apologetic look at his brother before pressing down until the right side was set; he carefully extracted his hands from his brother's mouth and sighed. Sherlock was panting, his eyes closed and his mouth closed "Fuck" he whispered and then passed out.

Sherlock woke up a few hours later; he was in a bed but not _his _bed which could only lead him to believe that this was Mycroft's house and that mummy would be very, _very_ upset. He assessed his injuries again, his right cheekbone was swollen and so was his jaw, his ribs seemed to be ok, only bruised. Sherlock walked around the house just to find it completely empty _'of course, Mycroft's taking over the world, stupid'_ he went to find his school bag and took something out of it, then, he stepped out to the back yard and lit up his cigarette, he stayed there until Mycroft found him, he had already gone through a pack and was just opening the next one before his brother came to stand next to him "Can you spare one?" Sherlock looked up surprised and tried to talk but his jaw hurt so he had to settle with nodding and passing a cigarette, his lighter and shooting an inquisitive look in his brother's direction "I had a bad day" he said, taking a drag "I had to reset my stupid little brother's jaw because he can't seem to be able to keep himself out of trouble"

"He started" Sherlock's voice was barely above a whisper

"And I'm sure you did nothing but stand there trying to persuade them that violence is not the answer"

"Sort of" Mycroft chuckled "How did you-?"

"CCTV, mummy said that the other day you didn't go home until it was very late and I promised to keep an eye out for you" Sherlock looked annoyed "Lucky you!" he said sarcastically "By the way, I told mummy that I was helping you with an essay and that you would be staying with me for a few days until you finished. I don't think mummy would like to see you like this" Sherlock turned away

"Thanks My" he said and then walked away.

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**Thanks for reading! Leave a review with suggestions, things you like/ don't like etc.**

**Take care!**

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	3. His keeper

**New chapter! I decided to skip some years for the plot's sake, Sherlock is 19 Mycroft 28. Enjoy!**

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Sherlock had just left for university again and Mycroft knew that his brother was up to something, the way in which he had left, no arguments no silly faces just a smile for Mummy and a witty remark for Mycroft, left him wondering. The nineteen-year-old was not enjoying University and still he had left without causing a scene like the last time he was home, when he threatened to leave uni and go to Barcelona. Was his brother _really_ growing up? Mycroft is not the kind of man who could leave such a question unanswered and so he had his little brother followed; a simple phone call was enough.

Sherlock would wonder around the halls and green areas of the university hoping to find something to occupy his mind, but there was nothing; everybody was so dull and predictable, there was only one person with whom Sherlock enjoyed himself. Jay Reed, a philosophy student who married his high school sweetheart and then had cheated on her with her sister, he was quite smart, quiet and he behaved as if he wanted to know how Sherlock's mind worked. They did not talk much; the afternoons would pass by with Jay reading a book and Sherlock staring into the abyss. There was only another thing that they shared and that was their love for the high, they would take almost anything to get that noodle-y sensation and the pleasure, so unfathomably big and delicious. Heroin was their favourite and Sherlock enjoyed cocaine as well, he would often mix them to get the opposite sensations at the same time.

Jay and Sherlock would go to one of the apartments near the university and meet up with a dealer and half a dozen other people (mostly students) who wanted to get high and away from everything. They would go regularly, as much as five times a day and the place would never be empty. They would go in, sit down, roll up their sleeve and get the hit. Sherlock always used his own needle which he kept in a special brown pouch that was hidden under his bed.

Sherlock took his spot next to the window and shot the load into his arm. He gasped, the rush did not take long to overcome him, he was in ecstasy all rational thought was driven from his mind and for once he was happy, he was normal.

Mycroft sat in his office, looking over the pictures that had just arrived. Sherlock was doing heroin, Mycroft knew that it was not past his brother to do something stupid, but this? This was way too much; he had to do something about that now, before it was too late. The last thing he wanted to do was to bury his brother after an overdose, he would be losing so much. It was decided, he went out on the street and into the car that was waiting for him, the driver already knew where to go and Mycroft sat in the back thinking about what he was going to say.

The ride was not long and soon Mycroft was standing at Sherlock's dorm door. A lanky boy opened the door "what's up?"

"Is Sherlock in?" The boy nodded and stepped aside. The room was a complete mess, there were clothes and leftovers everywhere, you could barely see the floor and the stench was incredible.

"He's over there" Jay pointed at a still form curled up in the bed

"Ta" Mycroft stepped closer "Sherlock" he looked asleep but his eyes were wide open and his breathing slow "Sherlock!" he said louder, Sherlock nearly jumped out of bed.

"Christ" he looked over at Mycroft "To what do I owe this pleasure?" Sherlock's eyes were red and slightly unfocused, you could tell that he had not shaved or even showered in a few days.

"We need to talk about your recreational habits"

"Jay, would you mind stepping out?" He said and a few seconds later he heard the door close "You had me followed, interesting" his eyes narrowed

"You have to stop, you cannot be this stupid. It will kill you" Mycroft's voice was steady and his face was a mask

"Well it hasn't" Much to his surprise Sherlock smiled "Gaining weight again, Mycroft?"

"Shut up! This is not about me -"

"So you are!" Sherlock's eyes narrowed again "Why are you here Mycroft? To tell me to stop? You know that I won't listen to you, so why bother? Are you feeling guilty Mycroft? Or do you simply feel the need to stick your nose in my business? What is it?" he jumped off the bed "How is it that you think that everything I do concerns you?"

"I'm your brother!" His voice rose

"Yeah, well that doesn't make you my keeper! I can do whatever the fuck I like, get it?" Mycroft gaped, bile rising in his throat "What is it? You know it's true but you just can't accept it" he snapped, before he knew it his fist had collided with his little brother's face.

"Can't you see that I care? I'm concerned and you only stand there..." Sherlock threw himself at his brother and pinned him down in one swift move

"Caring is a disadvantage Mycroft"

"Get off" Sherlock did so and went back to his bed. Mycroft took a few seconds to compose himself before walking out.

A few months later Mycroft received a phone call from his mother, apparently Sherlock had dropped out of university weeks before and nobody could find him or his roommate, she was crying and Mycroft was trying to calm her down "Promise me you'll find him, please, you've always looked out for him, find him"

"I will mummy, I promise. Don't worry too much" The call ended and Mycroft was left to his thoughts. He hated what Sherlock was doing despite trying to look as if he did not care, he could not help it, he was his little brother, the kid who had wanted to be a pirate when he was nine and a detective when he was twelve, when had his brother deviated? Mycroft sighed and asked his assistant to put the coordinator of the MI5 on the line "My dear Wilson, I need your services"

It had been three months and there was still no trace of Sherlock or Jay anywhere, Mycroft's hopes of finding his brother alive were dimming with each passing hour of staring to the CCTV footage and not seeing his brother, the reports said nothing new and he was starting to look for the morgue reports. His phone rang and he picked it up after only two rings.

"Hello?"

Sherlock was somewhere in London bent over a silver casing, he inhaled and sat up, his nose was full of a white powder and he wiped it lazily, the rush did not come it was becoming hard to get the same high, Sherlock grunted and took out his syringe, he filled it with heroin and immediately shot it up his arm. He was falling, falling deeper and deeper; his heart was beating faster and faster every second, his back arched as he struggled to breathe and suddenly he was falling again, his heartbeat was slower and for the first time since he started using drugs he felt dizzy and nauseous, he had taken too much _'Shit'_ he was weak "Jay?" there was no answer, Sherlock looked around and spotted Jay's figure, he was not moving or breathing "Fuck" he whispered, his head snapped up _'The phone! Where's the phone, think for fuck's sake, think! Table by the door"_ it was only a few meters away, surely he could manage it. He crawled to it he really did not want to die in this hell hole, when he reached it he dialled the first number that came to his head.

"Hello?" came the voice at the other end. He tried to speak but he could not manage, he was panting "Sherlock?" even in his weakened state Sherlock had to smile "Where are you?"

"King's cross" he took a deep breath as he struggled to keep the nausea at bay "I took too much" he vomited

"Sherlock, don't hang up I'm pulling your location. Stay awake" Mycroft could hear his brother shaky breaths and then the phone dropped, the line went dead.

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**That's it for today! Leave reviews and tell me what you think.**


	4. Interesting

**Hey! Sorry for the delay, for some reason this was harder than I thought.**

**Enjoy**

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"Shit" Mycroft slammed down the pone and sighed, his brother was overdosing in a flat somewhere in London and there was nothing he could do about it, he had all the government's resources at hand and yet he could not find one person, granted, the person he was looking for was the kind of person who could disappear, but Mycroft was the British government he could make a country burn and yet his little brother had slipped away.

"Sir? We found him" Mycroft's head snapped up "He's two blocks away from King's cross station" Mycroft nearly ran to the car, the driver had been informed of the situation and their destination a few seconds before Mycroft got there and so, there was no real need to talk.

"Speed limit sir?" The driver needed his permission to ignore certain things

"Faster Mike, a lot faster"

Funny how time can pass really quickly or really slowly. Dread, as Mycroft found out, made it go very slowly, the ride could not have taken more than fifteen minutes and yet it seemed like an hour for Mycroft. He thought about the state his brother would be in, if he was dead, dying or alive and how would he tell mummy that he could not save his brother, it was irrational to think that Mycroft could have done anything to stop Sherlock, especially since the two brothers had grown apart in the last few years, but it still made him feel guilty, it made him feel sick, his brother was dying and he could have stopped it.

The car stopped in front of a shabby building, Mycroft stepped out calmly, his face showing no emotion, he walked to the doorman and showed him a picture "I'm looking for this guy"

"You the law? Where've you been? I've been complaining about those two since-"

"I'm going to take care of it, where?" The man pointed at the end of the hall "Keep the car running" The room was dark when Mycroft walked in, it smelled like something had died a long time ago and judging by the sound his sloes made when they left the ground there was a lot of old food on the floor. He turned on the lights and immediately regretted it, he had prepared himself mentally for every possible scenario, but now that he was there he realised that it was a truly horrifying sight. Sherlock lay in a corner, the phone a few inches away from his hand, a white, thick liquid surrounded his head and the only sign that he was alive was the sound of shallow breathing. Mycroft walked quickly towards Sherlock, he tripped on Jay's body but he barely noticed his only focus was on his brother's figure that had just started convulsing. He kneeled and took his brother in his arms "Sherlock" he spoke softly, trying to hide the tremor in his voice, Sherlock did not seem to react but it was not long before he stopped shaking and instead vomited, his body did not even arch when the white fluid started flowing out of his mouth. Mycroft carried him to the car, he was thin and he could feel every bone under the pasty skin.

"A&E?" Mike asked stepping on the accelerator

"Yes, fast please" Sherlock's head was on Mycroft's legs "Sherlock? Wake up, please" he pleaded, desperation clear in his voice. Sherlock's eyes fluttered open, glazy and unfocused but open, Mycroft sighed "Stupid 'Lock, very stupid" Sherlock's eyes seemed to smile.

"Interesting" he whispered, then he went limp and his breathing could no longer be heard, Mycroft panicked, the door opened and a doctor helped get Sherlock onto a stretcher, they rushed inside.

"He's not breathing" A nurse shouted

"Weak pulse" a doctor said as the hospital doors closed and Mycroft was left sitting in the car, wondering how he was going to tell mummy that Sherlock was dead.

Waiting also made time go slower, Mycroft had been given a private room where he took call after call from everyone in the government; apparently there was a crisis. He could not care less London could burn; right now his brother's life was so much more important.

"Mr Holmes?" A young doctor was standing in the doorway, Mycroft nodded and stood up, prepared for the worst "Your brother is stable now, critical but stable" Mycroft drew a shaky breath "You can go and see him, we are moving him to the private room you requested, a nurse will take you there"

"Will he recover?"

"If he wakes up he should make a full recovery" Mycroft nodded

The room was dim, the curtains were shut and a ray of moonlight illuminated Sherlock's face, the breathing tube on his mouth made him look fragile, it was unusual for Mycroft to see him in such a state; his brother always looked strong and sharp, even when he was a kid or after losing a fight, when Mycroft picked him up he always looked fine. But now he looked dead.

"Really stupid 'Lock" Mycroft whispered as he sat down. Soon the events of the day took their toll on him and he fell asleep

"_My!" An eight-year old made his way towards his older brother; the teenager opened his arms and caught him. The kid was crying but did not want his older brother to find out so he hid his face on the boy's shoulder._

"_What's wrong" Sherlock shook his head "'Lock?" he tried to look at his face "Why are you crying?"_

"_I'm not!" he shouted, but his voice broke "I got something in my eye"_

"'_Lock, would an excuse like that fool you?" he shook his head "if it doesn't fool you it won't fool me, now tell me what's wrong"_

"_Uncle John told mummy that I was a freak, just because I figured out that he was having an affair with the girl in the candy shop"_

"_So you finally figured it out!" Sherlock looked at him confused and dried his eyes "I did it a few days ago, what gave him away"_

"_His belt had traces of caster sugar on the inside, I noticed when he took it off to help mummy up the tree. Aunt Joanne doesn't like caster sugar; she uses the brown one, remember?" Mycroft nodded "There is no caster sugar at home because we used the last of in our experiment the day before he arrived and mummy said that she would not buy anymore, so that means that he should have gotten the sugar somewhere else, when we went to the candy shop I noticed that the girl had loads of caster sugar on her hands" Sherlock smiled proudly and Mycroft laughed_

"_That is very good, but awfully complicated don't you think?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow "When we went to the candy shop I noticed that the two were exchanging looks, that combined with the fact that aunt Joanne did not come despite loving candy means that she knows about the affair but doesn't want John to know that she knows" the brothers remained silent, Mycroft was wondering about dinner while Sherlock wondered about how he managed to miss 'the looks' he always missed that kind of thing and now that he thought about it 'the looks' were quite obvious but he just dismissed it as irrelevant, sentiment was irrelevant. Maybe that was why he was a freak_

"_Am I a freak?"_

"_No! Of course not, you are amazing" Mycroft smiled "You are so much smarter that the regular people and they're just scared of that, there will always be people who want to hurt you."_

"_And what do I do?"_

"_Tell me, I'll always help"_

"_Really?" Mycroft nodded and Sherlock smiled._

"_That is clearly not true" A deeper voice said, he sounded like an older Sherlock "You always made it worse" Suddenly the little Sherlock in his arms began to grow until his nineteen-year-old brother was standing in front of him "The noise Mycroft, I don't know how you do it but I tried, you could have taught me and I would not be in this situation, but you kept it to yourself didn't you?" The voice morphed again now it was his own voice._

"_You could have stopped it when it started, but it was so much better for you, did you think you had your little brother back? Is that why you didn't stop me? Selfish bastard" the earth opened and Mycroft fell._

He woke up startled and looking around he realised tha nothing had changed, Sherlock was still unconscious and the only sound that could be heard was the beeping of the monitor, he glanced at his watch he had slept for nearly 12 hours and it was time for him to get back to the office. As he stood up he heard an alarm go off, he turned sharply and Sherlock's eyes met his, wide open. Shocked. He was struggling against the tube, he tried to sit up but he was too weak, three nurses rushed into the room.

"Mr Holmes, I need you to calm down please" Sherlock did not stop

"Sherlock! Do please calm down!" Sherlock looked at him again; the heart monitor went back to normal as Sherlock laid still "Good boy" Sherlock's index and middle finger came up.

"Mr Holmes" the nurse said "I am going to take the tube out, when I do I need you to cough" Sherlock shot a pointed look in her direction _'just do it already, would you?' _"Ok, one, two, three" At the same time as the tube was being pulled out, Sherlock was helped into a sitting position for which he was grateful since he was attacked by the worst coughing fit he had had since the first time he had tried marihuana "The doctor will be with you in a moment" The nurse said, leaving on the bedside table a plastic cup with a straw and a straw, Sherlock tried to reach it but, as he had expected his muscles were not responding correctly, Mycroft held the straw to his lips and he drank.

"Happy, are we?"

Sherlock did not answer. He felt weird, floaty, he was cold but he was sweating and he could only think of one thing that would make it better: the next hit. Mycroft started ranting about something but he could not concentrate, shivers went up his spine they made him feel colder and weaker, a wave of nausea hit him and he resisted the urge to vomit, he swallowed the water but it did not help, suddenly he found himself turning away from Mycroft as he gave into the nausea, when he sat up Mycroft had stopped talking and was looking at him, there was no emotion in his face "Get out" Sherlock whispered

"Wha-"

"I said get out!" Mycroft looked at his brother amazed, he shook his head and walked out, leaving instructions to contact him if anything changed and a handful of MI5s.

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**Again, I'm sorry for the delay and I hoped you enjoyed! The next chapter might take a little longer to come because I have something planned but I need to develop it properly.**

**Leave a review!**

**Take care :)**

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	5. Going All Soft

**Hi! Sorry for the delay, I realize that this is very short. I'm sorry**

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Sherlock was going into withdrawal that much was clear to him; everything else though was melting into need, everything reminded him that he had to have a hit and everything reminded him that he would not get one. He was shaking, sweating, nauseated, he told all this to the nurse who was constantly checking up on him but she said that it was all normal and that in a few hours he would feel a lot better. He could not wait, he had to get out of there, otherwise his brother would have him committed to a rehab centre and, needless to say, he could not have that.

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath and emptied his mind completely, after five minutes his pulse rate started going down. He had been training his body to lower his heart rate at will since he was twelve, it was a great way of scaring the nurse into letting you go home. After ten minutes his pulse rate was too low and a couple of alarms went off, doctors and nurses rushed into the room and began trying to revive him, he waited until the moment was right and then sat up quickly, taking a deep breath as if he had been drowning, he grabbed one of the doctors by the lab coat and took his ID without him noticing, he pushed him back down and re-checked his vitals.

"Call his brother" the doctor said looking at one of the nurses, when she rushed out he turned his attention back at Sherlock "Good to have you back with us, do you know where you are?"

"Hospital?" Sherlock croaked, faking his tired expression "What happened?"

"You went into cardiac arrest, you are ok now and your brother is on his way"

"Thank you" he said, apparently overwhelmed with emotion, he even let a tear or two escape "Thank you so much"

"No problem, try to remain calm" He left the room.

"God, what a moron"

Mycroft arrived ten minutes later, worried by the doctor's words, his brother thanked him? For doing what he's supposed to? There was something seriously wrong with Sherlock and he had to find out what it was.

"Oh you're here, good" Sherlock said as soon as he walked in "I need to get out of here, look I'm clean"

"You are not, you have just been given methadone to stop the withdrawal effects" Mycroft sighed "Furthermore, I cannot get you out because you just had a heart attack and the doctors need to keep you under observation"

"I don't care, I'm ok, I just need to get out" Sherlock was doing his best to sound desperate and apparently he was doing a good job because his brother's face softened noticeably. Maybe seeing him in the hospital was really affecting him "Please, just get me out My" Mycroft sighed and shook his head, Sherlock looked down "Could you at least get me something more comfortable to wear?" Mycroft nodded

"I'll come back tomorrow" Mycroft left and arranged that someone gave his brother some scrubs.

Meanwhile Sherlock was genuinely shocked by his brother's attitude towards him, usually Mycroft would see right through the deception and then ruin it. _Mental note: Something is wrong with Mycroft, need further data._

The next step was easy, he turned on the shower and locked the bathroom door from the outside, then he took his chart, a stethoscope and walked out of the room, hoping that nobody would notice that he was barefoot and did not look anything like the man on the ID. Apparently the chart and the stethoscope were enough for the agents at the door "He's taking a shower" He said without looking up from the chart, the agents nodded. On his way out Sherlock passed through the medicine cabinet and grabbed morphine and methadone, he knew it was a risk but it was necessary, at least until he got hold of some money.

BBC BBC BBC

**Again, sorry for the length (or lack thereof) I know this is not what I promised but I swear I'm already writing the next chapter and you will have it in no time.**


	6. Withdrawal

**Hi! Sorry to have pulled a Moffat on you, this was super complicated to write but you deserve better. I had been toying with this idea for a while but didn't know how to make it happen and just yesterday I came up with the perfect solution. As an apology present here's the longest chapter I have ever written for a fic, thank you for your patience.**

**Note: There is a whole paragraph in italics that doesn't make much sense but it's just what Sherlock's thinking, the important bits are obvious though.**

The streets of London are not a good place to live, they are however a very good place to hide especially if you are hiding from the British government. Sherlock had already memorized every street in London by the time he was thirteen and the only thing he had to worry about were the CCTV cameras that had been installed recently. He slept in different places and would never stay in the same block for more than three days, he spent most of his time high in the corner of the back alley where he was living or avoiding CCTV cameras, he knew that his brother would be watching. Money came easy; he would pick pocket the people walking by or-when desperate- used his brother's card, to do this he would walk to the other side of London whilst avoiding the cameras, take the cash and then get a taxi to drop him off at some café, then he would disappear into the crowd. It was obvious to Sherlock that Mycroft knew that it was him taking the money but for some reason the card was never cancelled, Sherlock took it as a sign that his brother was still looking for him and that the card was just another mean to find him.

It had been two months since Mycroft last saw Sherlock, he felt stupid when he heard he had escaped, after all his brother had always been a great actor and could mimic any emotion and therefore he should have noticed something was off but he was so worried that everything slipped past him that day. He had to find Sherlock before their mother started to suspect Mycroft. According to her Sherlock was living in his house, cleaning up and planning to go back to university but he did not want his mother to see him in that state so he sent regular letters updating her on his status. There had been one day in which he had managed to get a glimpse of Sherlock and he looked terrible. Mycroft always thought that if Sherlock ever lost weight he would disappear, this theory was disproved when he realised that he could see Sherlock's bones through the ragged T-shirt he was wearing, he did not catch a glimpse of his face but he knew what it looked like: tired, unkempt, bags under the red-lined eyes. Mycroft had seen it before.

Homeless people, as Sherlock was starting to find out, were terrible conversational partners, most of the things they blabbed about did not make any sense and when it did the talk would bore Sherlock into craving the next hit. It was on the street that Sherlock found out what true boredom was, there was literally nothing to do except finding out useless fact about his fellow addicts and even that became boring very quickly, all he had were the drugs that kept his brain quiet and amused. Nothing ever happened in the street.

Mycroft was now realising that his brother did not want to be found and that the only way to keep track of him was through the photos taken at the ATM machines whenever he used his card, but soon that was gone as well, Sherlock had lost his card to some thug and now he was truly invisible, he was the invisible man with no money "Stupid Sherlock, very stupid" He had ten people checking the CCTV footage twenty-four hours a day and it was worthless, Sherlock had to be hiding in a back alley, maybe he even left London after he lost the card.

They took the card after he lost the fight, if you could call it that, he was too high to even realise that it was indeed a fight and did not even bother to block the punches thrown at him, the next thing he knew he was shoe-less in an alley and the card was gone "Fuck, stupid Sherlock, very stupid" All the money he made –if stealing counts as 'making money- he would spend on drugs and sometimes, very rarely, on food, obviously he became rather good at digging up food from the trashcans without getting too dirty and he got _very _good at selling useless shit to homeless people. His life did not bother him much, as long as he had heroin to spare and some form of amusement he would be ok, he was still bored though so when he found out his dealer, Jack, had been killed he had conflicting emotions, on the one hand he was annoyed because now he had to find someone else to provide him with the much needed drug but on the other hand he was exited, finally a murder. He remembered how pleased he was with himself after he riddled out Carl's murder –even if the police ignored him- and quickly he set out to find out who the murderer was, as he was digging through the facts he found a new dealer and Jack's murder quickly took the backseat.

Sitting against the wall with his sleeve rolled up he found happiness and peace, as he was preparing the shot his hands trembled with anticipation and a smile could be seen dancing on his lips. It was in the syringe now, it was so close, as it pierced his flesh he laughed; this was so _good_, no one on that street would deny that and then the liquid started making its way into his veins _'oh fuck'_ the syringe emptied and he let it fall. The high was coming, looming close and beautiful but there was something wrong, his heart was burning "what the fuck is-" he could not finish, a wave of nausea hit him and the emptied his stomach, his heart was pounding against his chest and he felt the urge to close his eyes and let the world melt away, he was dying, again.

Mycroft was turning in for the night, he was about to turn off his computer when a video suddenly popped up with a message that read '_we found him, send your instructions'._ The screen showed an empty street with flickering lights, and then a figure appeared stumbling and then dragging itself through the pavement, it looked up, straight at the camera "Sherlock". He was in trouble, otherwise he would not be showing himself _'send a car immediately and take him to the PROMIS clinic.'_

Sherlock woke up just as he was being carried out of the car and into the clinic, he struggled for a minute when he realised where he was but stopped when exhaustion and nausea hit once more, he closed his eyes and let the void swallow him whole.

"He is not allowed to be alone, I want a nurse beside him all the time" Mycroft said towering over the clinic's director "He can be rude and annoying but I am willing to pay extra especially to the poor nurse who will be with him" They were standing just outside Sherlock's bedroom

"Our personnel are qualified to deal with any adverse behaviour" the black haired man said "You do not need to worry"

"You've never dealt with anyone like him before, he can tell everything about you with one look and he will tell you the uncomfortable truths about your life. I am extremely sorry in advance"

"Does he smoke?" Mycroft nodded "will he be allowed to smoke?" Mycroft considered this for a moment.

"Yes he is but the nurse will have the lighter, don't let him have it, understood? Also, no methadone, I want a clean break"

"Of course, now your brother must be waking up now, would you like to see him?"

"Yes thank you" the director opened the door "He's useless" he turned to leave

"You don't want to see him?"

"No" Mycroft walked out of the clinic.

Sherlock awoke to the sound of a woman's heels; he sighed and opened his eyes. The whiteness of the room nearly burnt his retina and made him shut his eyes again, his head was pounding and everything seemed wrong.

"Mr Holmes, glad to see you're awake" He opened his eyes again and saw a blonde nurse bending over his bed "How are we feeling" she said smiling.

_Smoker. She was dumped yesterday; her ex-boyfriend owned a motorcycle. She has no kids but longs for a boy, she is happy with her job and her boss wants to sleep with her, probably for the size of her breasts (need data)._

"We? Did you overdose as well?" he said with half a smile.

"No" She smiled again.

"Oh well, I'm fine I want to get out of here as soon as possible, when is that by the way?"

"Until you are sober and you brother says you can go" She was trying to be pleasant and Sherlock could see that but he still found her annoying and dull.

"I'm off age you can't keep me here against my will" She smiled once more.

"Your mother signed as well, I'm afraid we can. But don't worry I'll try to make this as easy and comfortable as possible"

"You can't, get out!" Sherlock started to sit up but the nurse gently pushed him back down "Are you deaf?"

"No, but your brother asked for a nurse to stay with you at all times, my name is Arianna, can I call you Sherlock?" Sherlock crossed his arms and looked away "Listen I can be very nice or very nasty, I'm only asking you to do what you are told and make this easy for everyone in this clinic, now, can I call you Sherlock or must I call you Mr Holmes?" Sherlock considered his options, here he had everything he needed and at least they would give him methadone, after he got out he could always leave the country and stay out of Mycroft's reach.

"Sherlock's fine"

"Very well then, try to sleep you'll need it" Sherlock shot her a nasty look as she sat down on the chair beside his bed. Sherlock closed his eyes, realising just then how tired he was, he fell into deep sleep. Arianna sighed knowing that he would be awake in about two hours and stay awake for at least twenty-four hours and he would hate every second of it, she stood up and took the chart, it said he could smoke and she decided that Sherlock was alright and that she would give him her own cigarettes not the crap the hospital bought "I feel very sorry for you" she whispered.

As predicted Sherlock awoke two hours later. He stat up gasping for air, his eyes unfocused and his hair sticking to his forehead with cold sweat, chills ran down his back and the light of the room stung his eyes, he turned to where he knew Arianna was sitting and met with a sympathetic look "I need methadone, now. I haven't had anything in over eight hours"

"I'm sorry Sherlock, your brother said clean break" Arianna saw how Sherlock's eyes went from sharp to fearful in a matter of seconds and then hate soared through them "I hate to do this, I'm sorry"

"I can't..." he trailed off the calmness in his head was turning into a mess very quickly, everything he saw he dissected but could not keep any of the information because something was buzzing somewhere in the building and it was giving him a serious headache, he closed his eyes ready willing everything to go away "Shhh, fuck! I can't, I need. Anything now" He turned to Arianna who smiled.

"Here" she got her cigarettes out and handed one to Sherlock "I know you meant something at least seven percent stronger but this will have to do" once Arianna lit it for him, Sherlock held the cigarette with shaky fingers "The next forty-eight hour will be hell, forty-eight if you're lucky" Sherlock did not react, his eyes were closed again "You will hallucinate, have nauseas and headaches, probably a fever as well. I'm sorry"

"Please, oh please stop apologising! It's pathetic and it's not doing anything to stop the noise"

"Noise?"

"You wouldn't understand" Arianna seemed offended "No-one does" he added

"What helps with the noise then?"

"Heroin" Sherlock said half smiling "But for now, just turn on the telly, any channel you like" She turned on the news and Sherlock closed his eyes.

Everything was bizarre; the voices coming from the television were starting to mix with other voices inside his head, it sounded much like him and Mycroft arguing over something he could not make out. Bizarre.

_**Lucas Elliot was found dead this morning**__... Here we go round the prickly pear prickly pear prickly pear... "Do shut up Mycroft you are not father and nothing gives you the right to... at five o'clock in the morning... __**this is the fifth public servant found dead this month**__... "Thanks Myc... Flashlights, eyeglass, shoes, snowmen, garbage... "You have to stop, you cannot be this stupid. It will kill you... __**Seemingly accidental**__... "Am I a freak?"... A squared plus B squared equals C squared... Under the spreading chestnut tree I sold you and you sold me... Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too... __**The detective is sure there is no connection**__... 6.0022X10ˆ23... Cherry coke, straws, tea, Easter, truffle... This is the way the world ends... __**Aldous, Arundel, Barnsley, Cesley, Elliot these men were all public servants... connection? **__... not with a bang/ but with a whimper... Something is wrong with Mycroft, need further data._.. _**Fibonacci**_ _**1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21,34**__...Twinkle, twinkle little star... headphones, earphones, Dark side of the Moon... __**A,A,B,C,E,H,M,U,H**__... And Blake-light tragedy... __**Tragedy, Drama, Drama school, vocals**__... Mycroft, Mycroft, Mycroft, what?... __**Dramatic vocals OUAEI**__... Ecce Cor Meum...__**Al**__d__**o**__us, __**A**__r__**u**__nde__**l**__, Barns__**l**__ey, __**Ce**__s__**l**__ey, __**El**__l__**i**__ot, __**who's next?**__ ... "Stupid 'Lock, very stupid"... __**The next one is H, 11**__**th**__** 21**__**st**__**, 22**__**nd**__**, 23**__**rd**__**, 25**__**th**__... Like a teddy bear...__**There seems to be no connection other than the fact that the five of them were working at Whitehall**__... "I'll meet you in Whitehall"... __**Mycroft works there**__... She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah, wait what? __**Stop something, you're missing something, go back!**__... __**Hol**__mes... __**Mycroft's next**_ **28****th****.**

Arianna had been watching Sherlock for the last hour, it was the first time she saw such a calm withdrawing heroin addict. He was sweating and running a small fever, he had to be nauseated and exhausted but too wired to sleep, but he did not move when she leaned in to wipe his sweaty brow, suddenly he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The lights hit his eyes and made the headache return "Mycroft's next" he said.

"What?"

"Someone's going to kill my brother" he was trembling and his voice was being drowned by his heavy breathing "I'm..." he turned away and vomited, his wrecked body shaking all the time. When he sat back up he was pale and red-eyed "Someone's going to kill him in three..." he swallowed hard trying to stop the bile from rising in his throat "days" he turned away again and a greenish liquid spurted out of his mouth.

"When was the last time you ate?" he did not answer "Sherlock?"

"That's unimportant, get my brother in here now!" Suddenly sitting up became too much effort and Sherlock fell back unto the mattress "Please...get...Mycroft" Sherlock shut his eyes but he was not asleep.

Arianna called for the attending on duty and explained him Sherlock's mental state, after glancing at the chart the doctor dismissed it as a side effect of the withdrawal and Arianna, though not convinced, agreed. Sherlock heard the whole exchange and as soon as he heard the doctor leaving he opened his eyes again "Is there anything you can do about the lights?" he said rudely, Arianna nodded and closed the curtains "I'm not going insane, I..." another wave of nausea hit him and he tried to vomit but nothing would come out, it was an empty gagging noise that made his whole body shudder "I need to use the bathroom" Arianna helped him off the bed and into the bathroom, it was harder than any of them had thought, his legs were aching badly and he could barely stand.

Twelve hours passed without sleep for either Arianna or Sherlock, he was cold and hot and achy and in pain, nauseated, tired, shivery and craving heroin with all his might, knowing that just one hit he would be fine once more. There were times when he would babble and nothing would make sense, but suddenly he would be sitting up trying to convince Arianna that someone would kill Mycroft.

"Just hear me out, yeah?" Sherlock said through clattering teeth for the millionth time that night.

"Alright, I'll hear you out if you eat" Sherlock fell back down on the mattress exasperated, annoyed that Arianna could think about peanut butter sandwiches at a time like this "Deal?"

"I don't want to eat!" he huffed; if he wanted to get out of there to save Mycroft he needed her help "Alright!" She smiled triumphantly and gave him a quarter of a sandwich and once he had swallowed it whole she said

"Shoot"

"Ok, see the names of the five dead men, yeah?" Sherlock was on his game and for a moment the withdrawal symptoms appeared to have stopped "Aldous, Arundel, Barnsley, Cesley and Elliot, the first letters A, A, B, C, E if we make the letters into numbers it's 1, 1, 2, 3, 5 Fibonacci, are you following?" She nodded; maybe she was not as dumb as Sherlock thought at the beginning "the next number is 8 and the eighth letter is H so now we know that the next dead man's surname is going to start with the letter H, now look at the first vocal after the first letter, O, U, A, E, I, in drama school they teach you about strong and soft vocals O, U and A are strong E and I are soft so they put them that order. So the next man to die is going to start with an H and followed by and O, now you can say that it could be anyone but all the men worked at Whitehall, so does my brother and he is the only one with a window facing the street and in front a building that could be used as a nest, we joked about it once, his window is at the perfect height for a sniper" Arianna was starting to wonder whether Sherlock could breathe through his skin because as far as she was concerned Sherlock had not taken a breath in this whole time.

"Wait, the other deaths looked accidental, this time is a sniper, it doesn't follow the logic and how do you know it's a drama student?" Sherlock smiled, slightly impressed.

"Yes but look at the deaths, it started with carbon monoxide poisoning, then a slip in the shower, then a fall down the stairs, then hit by a car and then a mugging gone wrong. It's increasing in violence and becoming more sophisticated; now the man has moved on to weapons, the first thing you learn to use in all martial arts is your body and then knifes and other pointy objects and then long range weapons so we can assume that the next man will be shot by a sniper. Now about the man being a drama student, as I said the violence in each of the killings is increasing in a very dramatic way, it reminds me a bit of Sleuth, and also all of these ways to kill someone up to the knife are outlined on the play "Stockholm bridges" by Anthony DeRenier, a play that all drama students must read on their last year, however this particular play cannot be found in any library or bookshop because it's exclusive to the drama students. See? Drama student" Arianna was gaping "All I'm asking is for you to turn your back while I use the phone and fall asleep during your night watch" She nodded "Thank you" After that the magic was gone and the symptoms continued to wrack Sherlock's broken body.

They were well past the forty-eight hour mark and Sherlock seemed to be improving, he was becoming desperate because it had been impossible to hold a phone and his brother was going to die next morning at eight o'clock (Fibonacci again)"I need the phone" he said to Arianna

"Let's go for a walk, it will do you good" She winked and led Sherlock out of the room and near the Nurse's station "You need to convince me in front of all these people to let you use the phone, can you do that?" Sherlock half smiled.

"But, but please! I n-n-need to talk to him, please!" She shook her head.

"It's not allowed, I'm sorry" She was impressed at Sherlock's sudden change, he looked as if he was about to cry

"B-b-b he's the love of my life, I-I-will never find anyone like him, please!" He began crying and by that time they had the head nurse's attention "He left me 'cuz of the drugs I just want to tell him that I'm sobering up and that I love him and will he take me back, please"

"I'm terribly sorry-"

"Arianna" came the booming voice of the head nurse "I think we can bend the rules a bit for this man, all he needs is a reason to continue"

"Really? Thank you, thank you" He was lead into the phone booth

"Arianna stay with him, will you?" She nodded sweetly as the head nurse shut the door.

"Nicely done!" Sherlock smiled.

"What can I say" He took the phone and dialled a number "Hi sorry to bother you, but I lost my brother's phone number, he's in you college his name is Sebastian Wilkes and he's majoring in biology, can you help?" the female voice at the other end told him the number "Thank you so much" he hung up and dialled the number.

"_Hello?"_ came the voice at the other end.

"Sebastian, it's Sherlock, you owe me one, remember?"

"_Sherlock, where are you, your brother-"_

"It doesn't matter I need you to pay me back"

"_Ok"_

"I need you to get to the PROMIS clinic at..." he looked at Arianna

"They change shifts at midnight" Arianna provided.

"Midnight, on the spot, wait outside and bring a pair of jeans and shirt I'll go to you"

"_Sherlock, what are you doing, are you injured?"_

"Don't be daft, I'll explain when you get here, thanks" he hung up

When they walked out they met with the head nurse, Sherlock had tears in his eyes "Well? What happened?"

"He'll take me back!" she applauded.

"Well then you better keep doing this good" She signalled Arianna to take him back to his room.

It was half past eleven when Sherlock started preparing everything to leave, he was still shaking and aching all over but at least the vomiting had stopped "How are you getting out?"

"Window"

"It's two floors down!"

"Minor fall" Sherlock said from his bed "I need you to fall asleep now, they'll be checking on us in three minutes" He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, then three minutes later the head nurse came in and quietly checked his vitals, trying not to wake either of them, knowing that they had it rough for the last two days, after she made sure everything was in order she left, closing the door behind her. Sherlock checked his watch 11:45 he opened the window before they set the alarms and put a key in place of the magnetic sensor. At 11:55 they would start changing shifts and roughly at 12:05 everyone would be in place, he had ten minutes to run to the front gate, climb over the fence and get inside the car. At 11:50 he jumped out of the window after a quiet "thanks" he fell on his feet and rolled over trying to minimise the impact on his aching body, he lay on the floor panting with pain and at 11:55 he started running for the gate, he reached it by 12:00 when everything was deserted he started climbing, at exactly 12:05 he heard voices coming his way and he let himself fall once more, he was out! Sebastian made a change of lights and Sherlock ran towards the car.

"You look like hell" Seb said once Sherlock had closed the door "What's happening Sherlock?"

"Drive" Sherlock whispered, catching his breath and laying his head on the seat "I overdosed; my brother put me in here and now I'm getting out to save his sorry arse" Then he proceeded to explain the murders and the clues that lead him to his conclusion.

"You are freaky sometimes" Sherlock chuckled "Where to?"

"Just drop me off anywhere near Whitehall" Sebastian nodded, if Sherlock was anyone else he would have offered to leave him the car but knowing he was an addict he decided against it. He dropped Sherlock off in an alley a block away from the Whitehall offices, Sherlock's original plan was to go straight to the office and shout abuse at the secretary until she let him through but as soon as he stepped out of the car and the cold night bit into his skin he realised that he could not walk just yet and sat down, without realising it he dozed off.

He woke up again to the voice of a policeman telling him to get off his lazy arse and find a job; the sun was shining through the usual London clouds and he jumped up "What time is it?"

"Quarter to eight, you alright? You look a bit shaky"

"Shit!" and with that Sherlock ran off towards the offices leaving a puzzled policeman in his wake.

Sherlock ran all the way to the third floor, he walked quickly through the doors until he reached a pair of wooden doors with two bodyguards standing on each side, a secretary asked him what he wanted "I need to see Mycroft Holmes" he stated towering over the secretary's desk.

"I'm afraid he's busy" Sherlock checked his watch impatiently 7:56. The murderer was obsessive, the shot would be fired at exactly eight "If you would like to leave me your name and wait"

"There is no time!"

Mycroft sat at his desk talking over the phone with the Greek ambassador; he had asked not to be disturbed, the situation was delicate. 7:58.

"Gents" The secretary said turning to the men at the door "Would you mind showing this man out?"

"No! Wait" The men attempted to grab Sherlock by the armpits but he managed to wriggle out of their grasp, he grabbed the secretary's letter opener and held it as a knife.

_That's right show your pretty head fucking moron_ he put the bullet into the gun.

One of the bodyguards charged at Sherlock and he stabbed him in the neck, missing, on purpose, any vital spots but causing the greater amount of pain possible, then he threw him against the other one and stumbled through the door.

Mycroft heard something on the other side of the door but dismissed it quickly. 7:59. Then Sherlock stumbled through the door "Sherl..." His little brother regained composure and threw himself towards him, pushing him to the ground just as the shot was fired and the bullet imbedded itself on the wall behind. Sherlock crawled towards the window and shut the curtains in one fluid motion, then he stood up eyeing his brother with a smirk, just as he was about to speak three bodyguards ran into the room and made their way decidedly towards Sherlock "What do you think you're doing?" the three men stopped cold at the sound of Mycroft's voice "Get out, have a perimeter set around Whitehall and call the police" They nodded and ran back out.

"I'm not useless"

**So that's it, the next chapter is up already. I should point out though that the drug experiences are not my own, I just have very sick puppies as friends haha. Also, you might have noticed the various allusions to novels, poems and songs, it is basically Eliot's 'hollow men', Allen Ginsberg's 'Howl', Orwell's '1984', The cure's 'Friday I'm in love' and the Beatles with 'she loves you' I do have to admit that I made up the play 'Stockholm Bridges'.**

**Thanks for reading**


	7. The Christmas dinners

**This chapter is also an apology for taking so long; it's a little bit lighter and funnier... I guess. Thanks for reading!**

Sherlock had just re-settled into his dorm at Cambridge when he got his mother's letter.

_Dearest Sherlock,_

_I am glad to see you back in University after the horrible affair you went through. Although it is only July, I would like to invite you home for Christmas dinner; I regret to say that your brother will not be joining us because of the nature of his work. I would love for you to come on the night of the 24__th__._

_Love,_

_Mummy._

Sherlock loved how his mother made it sound like an invitation while allowing no room for arguments; he scribbled his reply immediately and sealed the envelope. Of course he would go, especially since Mycroft was not going to be there, things had not gone well after the Whitehall affair, Sherlock had refused to go back to the clinic and instead insisted on going back to Cambridge, according to Mycroft he would fall back into the same pattern as before but Sherlock, as usual, did what he wanted.

For seven months Sherlock stayed in school and off drugs, not because he did not want the needle but because he wanted to prove Mycroft wrong. He glided through the lessons getting the grades that were expected of him with minimum effort and then spent all of his free time staring at the void or experimenting on the kitchen table.

On Christmas eve Sherlock got onto his bike and rode off to the Holmes Manor. The ride was quick; Sherlock sped through the motorway uncaring of regulations, all his movements were smooth and precise. He marched his motorcycle up the driveway and rearranged his clothes and hair before knocking on the door, he had keys but since this was no longer his house he preferred to be invited inside, Mycroft opened the door.

"She told me..." he began

"She told me the same thing" Sherlock mumbled as he walked past his brother and into the main room.

"Well, I see you're wearing the scarf she gave you" The corner of Sherlock's mouth turned upwards slightly "That's nice of you, of course she prefers when you wear a tie"

"And she prefers to see you actually fit into your suits brother-dear" Sherlock turned away and directed himself towards the living room where his mother was sitting graciously on a chair "Hello mummy" he said with a genuine smile when he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

"It is lovely to see you dear" Just then Mycroft walked in "It is lovely to see both of my boys for Christmas" she smiled and stood up prepared to lead the way into the hall where the food was being served. Mycroft and Sherlock spared a glance at each other, smiling slightly, their rivalry forgotten for a moment, both amused at the fact that their mother had lured them to dinner by saying that the other would not be present, and then the moment was gone and both of them made their way into the hall and sat down.

Dinner was quiet as usual, neither of the Holmes eager to start a conversation until the plates were clean and the tea was served.

"And tell me Sherlock, dear, what are you up to?" Violet said pleasantly

"You know mummy, studying, I have not done much else" Sherlock spared his mother another smile.

"Am I correct in assuming that your grades are excellent?"

"Indeed mummy, they exceed the professor's expectations" Sherlock took a sip of his tea "But I am more interested to know what you have been doing mummy, I noticed the roses outside"

"Ah yes, I had them picked and planted last month, beautiful aren't they"

"Indeed they are mummy" Mycroft said smiling pleasantly "Did you enjoy your trip to France?" Sherlock sighed imperceptibly, there was Mycroft showing off again.

"Oh yes!" Margaret went into a detailed story of her trip, the brothers smiling, nodding and commenting when necessary "I think it is time for me to leave you boys, I am afraid getting old makes you tired" she said with her ever present smile "I'll see you in the morning" She kissed them both on the cheek and left. The dining hall remained quiet until Mycroft decided to break the spell.

"I think I might have found you a job" Sherlock sighed "It's in my office you see, I thought you might like to—"

"Go work for you?" He chuckled darkly "So that you can have more power over me? You already control my allowance"

"Yes and look what you've done with it, bought a motorcycle. Do you really want to kill yourself that badly?"

"It's only means for transport Mycroft" Sherlock looked up from his mug "Whatever I do, you'll criticize, I go back to school and you hate it, I buy a bike and you think I have suicidal tendencies!" he said smugly, raising and eyebrow and half-smiling.

"I don't think it was right for you to leave the clinic"

"Next time I'll just let someone shoot you in the head, right, got that" he shot sarcastically

"That is not what I mean! You should have gone back, you should have finished your treatment, I do not approve of what you're doing Sherlock"

"Well that's rich, I don't need _your_ approval; you're not my father"

"Oh but you wish you had father's approval, don't you?" Mycroft regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"Piss off Mycroft" Sherlock took a deep breath "The fact that I'm standing here today, looking as I do and being as I am, clearly shows that I never needed father's approval, I got over that about fifteen years ago, you on the other hand were always hungry for his approval. You were the one who tailed him like a dog to learn everything about his job, even though you weren't even remotely interested, you went to Eaton because of him, you hated the place but you kept quiet and let yourself be fucked in the arse by his ideals" Mycroft mask fell for two seconds before he regained his composure.

"I learnt how to act around people Sherlock, and that means that you don't always get what you want nor do what you like, apparently you never got the hang of that!"

"I don't need to; I'm doing quite well without it"

"You are a drug addict! Clearly you could have done better, and while we are on the subject how many joints did you smoke before coming here?"

"Two, how many whores have you shagged to gain your peer's approval?" Mycroft threw his chair back and stood up.

"That, dear brother, does not concern you"

"My personal life does not concern you either!" Sherlock also stood up "How come when it's my life you feel the need to get your nose in to try and fix it, but when it's your life you don't bother? Shagging whores for approval is pretty fucked up Mycroft"

"How dare you? I've spent my life looking after you"

"I don't need you Mycroft, I'm not three years old anymore. Get over yourself and your power complex and leave me alone. I'm going to bed"

**Well that's that, I'm not sure how to continue but I swear I will come up with something, please review, you can leave me your suggestions there!**

**Take care!**


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